


Six-Drink Darcy

by amidtheflowers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, MeetCute, an excessive use of pop culture references, bar shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers
Summary: When Bucky goes to a bar with Sam and Steve, he doesn't really anticipate a girl flopping down by his table. Or her waxing poetic about raisins. Maybe it's one of those twenty-first century things he still didn't understand.





	Six-Drink Darcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leftennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/gifts).



> Hello! I am back, with another oneshot! This one was not so much prompted as it was _inspired_ by the lovely Leftennant. Seriously, she is awesome and hilarious and I heart this woman.
> 
> I have a lot. A LOT. Of pop culture references in here. Mostly comedies, one slightly uncomedic one. I'll tell you the title and theme of this fic is based on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. The rest...well, if it sounds familiar, it is a reference ;) Kudos to whoever can guess them all (or the most!)
> 
> Enjoy! xx

**Six-Drink Darcy**

**.:.**

**.:.:.**

**.:.:.:.**

The Slaughtered Prince is not the usual bar Bucky frequents, nor is it convenient for him to get to. It’s a squashed little place near lower Manhattan, with a metal sign that hangs on two hinges that screeches with the sound of rust whenever a gust of wind blows past it. Its ugliness appeals to Bucky, as well as its generous Happy Hour.

The bartender nods at him when he approaches the bar. He’s already fixing the drinks without Bucky having to tell him which, and it leaves him with a warm feeling in his chest. “Thanks,” Bucky smiles as he hands over a crisp twenty and takes the tray of shotglasses.

Steve, already sitting at a table, sees the drinks in Bucky’s hands and groans. “Buck, you know I can’t get drunk. You’re wasting your money.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk? Sam, did I say anything about getting drunk?”

“You’ve said a lot of stupid ass things today, but no, I don’t remember anything about getting Captain Rogers drunk,” Sam replies with a smirk. Bucky sets the glasses on the table and pushes them towards Steve.

“As your friend,” Bucky fixes Steve with a firm look as he crosses his arms, “there are only so many times I can watch you sit in your room cracking a cold one from a convenience store.”

“I don’t—I don’t drink that, I don’t know what—” Steve sputters with wide-eyed innocence that fools nobody.

“And _because_ I am your friend,” Bucky continues loudly, “I am making sure if you’re putting poison in your liver, it’ll be the good kind. You might’ve been frozen in a lake for seventy years straight but I wasn’t sure as hell wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t a lake,” Steve mutters, but his voice is drowned out by Sam pounding on the table.

“Drink, Rogers! Come on now, take it,” Sam picks up a shotglass and holds it in front of Steve. A smile is starting to quirk on his lips and Steve lifts a single brow. He takes the proffered shotglass, then picks up a second. Sam and Bucky exchange grins as Steve downs them in one go. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

The drinks keep coming. Sam gets soused early on, singing loudly on the karaoke stage with a surprisingly enthusiastic audience. Steve retreats to the back of the bar where a small, cube-like television is propped up on a barstool playing a rerun of last night’s baseball.

Bucky sits at the table alone nursing his drink, enjoying the pleasant warmness alcohol can still give him. Though unable to get drunk either, Bucky still benefits from the lighter feeling it can give with all the perks and none of the hangover. Sometimes he misses it, the option of drinking until he’s pink in the face and all the noise around him fades.

He’s still reminiscing this when, by chance, he catches the eye of a woman with bright blue eyes. A woman staring at him.

The stare is unnerving. Bucky isn’t unused to being looked at, not with his name and his past. But this time it’s raising his hackles, and he’d chosen this bar specifically because of its anonymity. That, and the good atmosphere the frequent visitors gave. They paid no mind to Bucky or his friends, and the dynamic was a good one.

Bucky’s alarm escalates when the woman slides off the barstool and stands up. Without breaking eye contact, she starts walking towards him.

He makes a mental note of all the exits in the bar as well as Sam and Steve’s location. The woman stops short of his table, standing a respectable distance away but near enough that if she said anything, he’d be able to hear her just fine. Up close he realizes the woman was beautiful. Alarmingly beautiful. The kind of beautiful Bucky might have considered more deeply if she were not setting him so deeply on edge.

“Don’t move.”

Bucky’s eyes flare. He remains stone still as the woman lifts her palms in a placating, cautious gesture. Bucky shifts a little in his seat, trying to get a read on her. He can’t see any hint of weaponry concealed on her person, but she could be trained. His hand moves to his hip.

Her eyes track his movement and she holds her hands up higher. “Seriously. I’m so serious. Just, hang on.”

Without a word, the woman plops onto the floor and lays down.

Bucky blinks. Leaning over, Bucky stares at the woman now on the floor. Laying down. She’s on her stomach and has the look of utmost concentration on her face. He watches warily as she begins sliding herself backwards towards his table— _under_ his table, to be more accurate.

His caution becomes amusement when she plucks up a raisin that had been sitting innocuously under the table. Holding up to here face, she says, “EXPLAIN YOURSELF, RAISIN.”

Bucky flinches, glancing around the bar nervously. No one so much as bats an eye. Frowning, Bucky looks back under the table and the woman is now staring at him again.

“Listen,” she says in a low, conspiratorial voice. She’s dead serious. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry. I got him. He’s not going to bother you, okay? Don’t worry. I will NOT let this invader encroach more than it already has. You hear that, Raisin?” The woman shakes the raisin in the air. “You hear—hey, that’s my clip. JANE, I FOUND MY HAIR CLIP!”

A woman sitting at the bar whirls around at the sound of her name and her eyes drop to the dark-haired woman flopped on the floor near Bucky’s feet. “Ooooh, clip,” she nods enthusiastically, taking another sip from her martini. And gets distracted by said martini, and turns back around.

“You okay there?” Bucky asks as he peers down at the mystery woman again.

“I’m fine. You should be asking that to Raisin. He’s the one who sneakily snook his way to your table, and was totally going to con you. I’m considering capital punishment. How d’you like that now, Raisin McLyingPants?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches. “Pretty sure it won’t answer, doll.”

The woman’s eyes narrow up at him. “Good god. He’s gotten to you already. Capital punishment it is.” She looks contemplatively at the raisin again, then back to Bucky. “I mean, I’m not going to eat it.”

Bucky holds back a smile. “That’s good.”

“In case you were thinking that. Because I wasn’t going to. I don’t eat dusty victims. He’ll be tried in garbage court like everyone else.”

“Glad to hear you uphold the justice system, doll.”

“ _Doll_. I like that. You sound like my grandmother.”

“Yeah? What’s her name? I mighta known her.”

“Nah,” the woman pushes herself up, grabbing the table to steady herself as she stands. “She still lives in France. Always has.” The woman looks at him again, and somehow it’s different than all the times before. It’s perusing, her gaze traveling from the top of his head to his hands folded on the table top. She holds out her hand. “I’m Darcy.”

He shakes it gently. “Bucky.”

“Bucky. Did you know there is a peanut that has been staring at you this entire time?”

Bucky glances down at where her eyes have fixated on the table. One, lonesome peanut sits on the table amongst a litter of peanut shells that Steve and Sam had been working through the night.

“I do now,” Bucky replies.

“Well. I will have to take him into custody too.” Darcy picks up the peanut and joins it with the raisin.

Bucky leans back against his chair, finding this more and more amusing. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this—a pretty girl rescuing him from bar snacks—but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Well, he’s looking at _a_ mouth. A pretty pink one with full lips. But that is neither here nor there.

“I’m a little hurt. Maybe I wanted that peanut.”

“You wanted to eat a gross sneakadoodle peanut off a greasy bar table?” Darcy gives him a look.

“Never said anything about eating it,” Bucky replies, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ugh, fine. You can have visitor rights to the peanut. It’ll be over there, in that trash bin with Raisin. Is that a scotch?”

She points to Bucky’s unfinished drink. “Lagavulin,” Bucky explains.

“The mustache drink,” Darcy nods sagely. “I’ll be confiscating this too.” And before Bucky can protest, she drains the rest of the drink in one go.

“Five! That’s five drinks!”

The woman at the bar who Darcy had shouted to earlier now rushes towards them, grinning. “Sorry, Dr. Jane Foster. Darcy, that’s number five. You know what that means?”

“Hellooooooo Six-Drink Darcy!”

“What’s going on here?” Bucky looks up to see Steve sidling back in the seat next to him. Steve gives Bucky a pointed look. “I leave you for five minutes…”

“Excuse you, I saved him from two very villainous raisins and peanuts. I should get a merit badge,” Darcy glares at Steve.

“A peanut?” Steve frowns, glancing uncertainly at Bucky, who only shrugs.

“She did take the peanut,” Bucky replies. “I tried telling her maybe I wanted it.”

“Please. You can get more peanuts. How much does one peanut even cost, ten dollars?” Darcy starts searching through her pockets, presumably to find said money.

Steve glances at Jane and immediately straightens. “Dr. Foster, I didn’t know you came here.”

Jane shrugs. Steve glances at Bucky and explains, “She works in the labs in the Tower.”

“Ah. Good to meet you, Dr. Foster. Name’s Bucky.”

Jane smiles, shaking his head. “Nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ve heard about you.”

Darcy snickers. “From her boyfriend. Thor. You know, big, muscly guy with the blonde hair? Looks at the sky shouting ‘Heimdall’ sometimes?” Darcy leans towards Bucky across the table, eyes piercing through his.

“I know the guy, yeah,” Bucky starts squirming a bit under her stare as it lands on his mouth.

“I don’t come here very often, to be honest,” Jane says as she props an elbow on the table. “But we’re celebrating for Darcy.”

“What’re you celebrating?” Bucky asks.

Darcy smiles radiantly. “We are celebrating my firing from an apprenticeship, that’s what.”

Steve frowns. “You got fired?”

“So fired,” Darcy corrects.

“Super fired,” Jane adds helpfully. “She called her boss a dick.”

Bucky looks at Darcy, his interest piqued. Another round of drinks sets on the table and he picks up a glass, discreetly leaning forward to listen to her.

Darcy nods. “To be fair, he _is_ a dick. He made us sample his shitty cologne line—which has absolutely _nothing_ to do with politics—and when I tried bringing up how donating to a local charity foundation would bolster his campaign, he went off talking about turkey-hunting. He told the intern in more or less words he wanted to hunt _him_ on their next trip. Ergo, I called him a dick.”

“I would do the same. Guy sounds like a complete asshole,” Bucky tells her.

“Right? He was awful. Thank god I’m out of that whole gig.” Darcy’s eyes flicker over him again. “You have a nice face. Lickable.”

Bucky splutters on his drink, the alcohol burning down his throat. Eyes watering, Bucky says hoarsely, “Did you just say lickable?”

Darcy smiles serenely at him without answering. Jane snorts. “That’ll be the fifth drink talking.”

“What is that? You mentioned a six drinks thing?” Bucky asks Jane as Steve looks on in confusion.

Jane leans in closer, lowering her voice. “Darcy is the type of drinker who changes personality with each drink. And I have a theory about the sixth.”

“What are they?” Steve asks curiously.

Jane clears her throat. “Well. One-drink Darcy is blunt as hell. Brutal. She’ll cut you alive if you give her the chance. Two-drink Darcy is giggly. Three-drink Darcy, dance pants. She’s unstoppable and it’s best to get a fourth in her as soon as possible.”

“And the fourth?” Bucky asks.

“Four-drink Darcy is suspicious of everything and talks to food. Ergo,” Jane gestures to Darcy’s hand, which still holds the raisin and the peanut. “Five drinks is Darcy becomes a bit of a pervert.”

“That’s not perverted, that is _honest_ ,” Darcy scowls. “Where is the integrity if you see a man whose jaw looks like it is cut from stone and you don’t tell him it’s lickable? You have a very lickable face, sir.”

Bucky’s mouth is agape, smiling in disbelief as he glances at Steve, who merely shrugs with a grin. He turns back to Darcy, his eyes lighting up. “You really think that, doll? I’m flattered.”

“You should be, this face is the stuff of gods,” Darcy reaches out and pats the side of his face twice before taking his jaw in her hand and squishing his cheeks. Steve starts laughing next to him, and Bucky patiently extricates himself from her hand. “Trust me, I know some.”

“I believe you. So what’s the sixth drink?” Bucky is curious beyond belief now. It’s not often Bucky feels this level of interest in a girl he hardly knows—but with everything he’s finding out about her, from her, _with_ her—including her eyes mentally undressing him every other minute—Bucky knows this won’t be the last time he sees this woman. He can feel it.

“No one knows what Six-Drink Darcy is like because it’s never happened,” Jane sighs. “She only ever gets to five before she calls it a night. Today though—I have a feeling we will see Six-Drink Darcy before the night is over.”

Darcy holds up a glass. “You’re about to see it now, losers! _Witness me._ ” The drink disappears down Darcy’s throat until she slams the glass down on the table.

The table cheers, which gets the rest of the bar shouting alongside them. Bucky watches in anticipation as Darcy takes in a long breath, eyes fluttering closed. When they finally open, Darcy’s expression is weak. “Oh. I don’t feel good.”

“Uh oh,” Jane pales. “Six-Drink Darcy is sick-Darcy. I’ll go get a bucket.”

Steve, who has been eyeing the karaoke stage, turns to Bucky. “You good here? I think Sam needs a hand before the crowd bodily launches him off the stage.”

“I’m good,” Bucky says. Once Steve is gone Bucky returns his focus to Darcy, who is leaning heavily against the table with her head propped up by her hand. “You need anything, Darcy?”

“I’m okay,” Darcy answers, eyes still closed. “Thanks. I just…” She wrinkles her nose and Bucky thinks he sees moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes. “This was a bad idea.”

“Six drinks can do that,” Bucky says patiently.

Darcy shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut even more tightly. “No. Getting myself fired. I am…I am really, really screwed now. I shouldn’t have done it.”

She sniffles quietly, and Bucky’s heart drops. Six-Drink Darcy is not sick. She is incredibly, vividly sad.

“Hey, now.” Bucky reaches over to gently pat her shoulder. “You said yourself, guy was a dick. You were learning jack shit from him.”

“He also liked staring at everyone’s chest a lot,” Darcy muttered, her voice impossibly small.

“See? Terrible guy. You’re way too good for that.”

Darcy sniffles again, wiping the corner of her eye. “Yeah but. Now no one will take me again as an apprentice. I’m unemployed now, in the _city_. I’ll have to move in back with someone. I’ve just shot my career down the drain and I won’t get a recommendation and just— _fuck_.”

She wipes her eyes again and Bucky feels for her, his heart aching at seeing her true, genuine distress. “Darcy, I’m going to tell you something. Just listen.” Darcy meets his eyes with a questioning look on her face. “You are incredibly young, and this world is incredibly big. This isn’t the end of it. It’s going to be shit for a while, but this isn’t the end. You’ll get another job, another apprenticeship, whatever the hell it is you need for whatever career you’re doing. And this is absolutely sound advice coming from a stranger you met at a bar.”

A smile cracks on Darcy’s face. “You’re not a stranger, Bucky Barnes.” Bucky’s eyes widen, and Darcy raises an eyebrow. “The arm is a dead giveaway, dude.”

 _Right_. “Yeah, that.” Bucky flexes the metal fingers, feeling the plates shift at the movement.

“Plus, you have that face. I know that face pretty well, for a lot of reasons I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about.”

“I am, but no one so far has ever said my face was lickable.”

A flush blooms on Darcy’s cheeks, and Bucky tilts his head as he gazes at her. Jesus. _Jesus._

“Well, it’s been real. I’m gonna call a cab and crash at Jane’s.” Darcy gives him a warm, if not slightly unfocused, smile. “Nice meeting you, Bucky.”

“You too, Darcy.”

He watches Darcy and Jane leave the bar until they are out of sight. Something implacable settles in his chest, a warm feeling he hasn’t felt for a very, very long time.

Bucky finishes his last drink and seeks out Sam and Steve.

**-:-**

“Darcy, the more water you drink the better you’re gonna feel.”

“Mmmmmggh.”

Jane sighs. They’re sitting in the cafeteria in Stark Tower, with Jane and Darcy sitting at the end of a long table. Darcy had slept the night in her suite and woke up with a headache beyond comprehension. It took an hour to drag Darcy from the bed to the cafeteria, and Jane is starting to wonder whether it was actually worth it or not.

“Jane. Be honest. Did I really wax poetic about a raisin and a peanut for a full hour?”

“I’m afraid you did, Darce.”

“Ugh. I am never doing six different drinks like that again. I know my limit. I blame you entirely for being too interested in Six-Drink Darcy.”

“You don’t have to do it again, Darcy. But you really should drink that water.”

“I’m also remembering something with Bucky Barnes. Holy shit,” Darcy looks up at Jane with horror. “Oh my god, please no. Did I do that thing where I touch someone’s face?”

Jane suppresses a smile. “You did. I’m sorry.”

“Jane! You’re supposed to catch that before I can do it!”

“I’m sorry! I got distracted telling the Six-Drink Darcy theory. You know I have trouble focusing on more than one thing at once.”

“ _Ugh_. You are the worst wing woman,” Darcy groans into her hands. “God, this is not how I wanted to meet him. It was supposed to be a thousand percent classier. Elizabeth Taylor-esque. Instead I told him I wanted to lick his face.”

Jane sighs, shaking her head, when her peripherals catch a figure walking towards their table.

“Uh, Darce…”

“I mean, I stand by it? It’s a really nice face. There’s loads of stuff I would not mind doing to that face.”

“Darcy…”

“But Jane, I was drunk off my ass and this was not a good first meet, Jane. Jane, I can never look him in the eye again because all I will be thinking about now is the time I was drunk, and how I imagined the fifty ways I could unbuckle this dude’s pants.”

“Darcy. You should really consider what you say next.”

“And I cried. _Cried_ , in front of him. And he was all comforting and I left and,” Darcy sighs heavily, dropping her hands from her face to look at Jane. “Crying is not the way to undo a belt buckle.”

“I was thinking more like dinner first myself, but whatever you want to do.”

Darcy freezes. Jane purses her lips and gives Darcy a ‘sorry, I tried’ look. Swallowing hard, Darcy slowly turns around, and comes face-to-face to no other than Bucky himself.

“Hey,” she says. Darcy clears her throat. “You heard all of that, didn’t you.”

“Just about, yeah. Wanted to know if you’d be up for dinner. I’m thinking you sober will be more memorable than six-drink you was.”

Darcy nods in understanding. “You know? Dinner sounds fine. If that’s your sort thing.”

Bucky smiles slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tonight?”

“Why not.”

Bucky nods, then leans in slightly so only Darcy could hear him. “I’ll pick you up. You can tell me all the things you wouldn’t mind doing to my face.”

Darcy bites her lip. Then, she says, “Get me to one-drink Darcy and I’ll be brutally honest about it.”


End file.
